Blud's Thicker Than Water.

Adversity Is, To Me At Least, A Tonic And A Bracer.

The Tear, Down Childhood's Cheek That Flows, Is Like The Dewdrop On The Rose; When Next The Summer Breeze Comes By And Waves The Bush, The Flower Is Dry.

Profan'd The God-given Strength, And Marr'd The Lofty Line.

What A Strange Scene If The Surge Of Conversation Could Suddenly Ebb Like The Tide, And Show Us The Real State Of People's Minds.

Perhaps The Perusal Of Such Works May, Without Injustice, Be Compared With The Use Of Opiates, Baneful, When Habitually And Constantly Resorted To, But Of Most Blessed Power In Those Moments Of Pain And Of Langour, When The Whole Head Is Sore, And The Whole Heart Sick. If Those Who Rail Indiscriminately At This Species Of Composition, Were To Consider The Quantity Of Actual Pleasure It Produces, And The Much Greater Proportion Of Real Sorrow And Distress Which It Alleviates, Their Philanthropy Ought To Moderate Their Critical Pride, Or Religious Intolerance.